A Tiger's Fall
by RuskiDagnabbit
Summary: Tony was the last one standing on the day Corey died in his arms, but instead of dying, he managed to get out, and passed out nearby. He now finds himself stuck in Remnant, and alongside Biker and Jacket, he must attempt to create a new life, without all of the bloodshed and pain of the last life he suffered through (Tony x Nora).
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Lost

Tony didn't quite recall what had occurred over the last few hours, ever since donning a rubberised chicken mask hallucinations have plagued him. He couldn't recall much, only who he had to protect, the one named Corey. Tony had failed to perform and had completely failed his objectives. In the darkened room, with SWAT pouring into the building like a flood, various chatter could be heard from their radios, Tony sat with the rapidly dying Corey in his arms. Corey had been shot, by a 12 gauge slug through the sternum, her heart was in pieces, both proverbially and literally... Corey only had a minute maximum left. She slowly reached for her mask, and made a pitiful attempt to grab the mask and raise it above her face, her lack of strength and the blood coating her hands removing her ability to do so. Slowly, Tony removes the mask for her, and removes his own.

Corey looks up to speak, but sputters up reddened droplets, and lowers her head back down. She takes one last breath... and off to Valhalla she goes. Tony is left to wallow in his own pitiful existence, as a blind rage builds within him.

 _They won't miss you_

 _They all hate you_

 _You are nothing_

 _Waste of flesh_

 _Fucking useless sack of shit_

A blonde, tired, slightly malnourished man in a navy jacket strides in, yelling "FREEZE" pointing a rather regal revolver, … Tony could tank that kinda round, he would bet all his money on that... a mistake he had no chance to regret. Tony leaps for the officer and, with fist wrapped in shredded bandaging soaked with blood and other bodily fluids, some Tony's, and some not, Tony's fist slips forward and collides with the man's skull. His face exploded, not into chunks, not into tine splinters, but into a fine red mist. The SWAT begin pouring in at the sound of commotion, rifles at the ready, primed to empty lead. Tony continued to swing, brutalizing the black and blue bastards charging him, blood splatttered and splayed across every single fuckin wall in the building, blood smearing every inch of Tony, suffocating his pores, choking him out, drowning him in his own sorrow.

Bullet holes covering his body, a living, but mutilated slab of meat, weakening rapidly, Tony was bleeding, a bit too much for his fancy, he knew he didn't have long. His mask, originally an orange and black spotted pattern donned upon it, with an eye slashed and bleeding, now completely blood red, stained in it's entirety, with a 50 blessings logo splattered upon it, in magenta and green, thanks to a concoction of both Corey's leftover paint she had on her as a backup weapon, and Tony;s madness. Tony stumbled out of the front door of the building, police sirens echoing around him. He looks to his right, and spots a corpse, covered by a rag. Tony meandered over, and carelessly kicked the rag off of the corpse... The man who killed her... Tony, in one last fit of pure, unbridled rage, straddles the corpse, and proceeds to slam his now broken fists into the already gored face, until he too collapsed, just like she did.

I awaken in the woods... strange, could've sworn I was dead. The sky is blue, unlike the estranged shades of purple Miami had, So I ain't in Miami no more. Gradually standing back up, I look around, there is nobody around, all I could see was the luscious green bushes and... rather ridiculously tall trees. There is a building in the distance, It's either really tall, or above the forest, most likely the latter, suppose I'll head over there and see if I can find something. I reach for my mask, and not only find it, but another alongside it... it is hers...

It had been a few minutes since I started walking, and I was yet to find anything. That was, until I came face to face with several rather large black beasts, bones sticking out of various locations on their body, perhaps for a makeshift armour for the beasts. Slipping my mask onto my scarred face, I ready myself for yet another fucking fight, at least it ain't people this time... The first of the beasts charged me, I noted the lack of armour on their chin, and provided an uppercut, my fist went right through, and out the top of its head. Grabbing the boney faceplate of the beast, I yank my arm back of the beast, and throw it at another beast, beheading it.

I was prepared to take on the other beasts, but the majority of them ran off, presumably in fear, however they didn't get far, as they ran face first into two men, one in a pink warmer and a blue biker helmet, with a meat cleaver in his gloved hands. The other in... that fucking chicken mask... with a hammer in his hand, and a tape recorder in the other. That man had to be Jacket, the other I believe the man who assisted him, Biker. If it were another day, I would have chased Jacket around, begging for an autograph, but his actions lead to her death, and I can't forgive that. Jacket pulls a tape recorder from his back pocket, and plays a line, which contained a creepy twinge.

' **SCREEEEEE'** "Do you know what time it is?"

Jacket Began swinging that blunted hammer around, a miasma of notched and blunted agony crushing the bones of the beasts, as Biker stood still, watching. Eventually they were all dead, Leading the two to enter a stare down with me. Biker readies his cleaver, and Jacket lowers his. I simply continue to walk forward, unto my destination.

Bizarrely, Jacket and Biker had followed me, seems they spotted the tower too, and went in the same direction. I finally made it as close to the tower as I could get, It was part of a facility spanning a few Kilometres at most. Unfortunately, there was a big fuck-off cliff in the way, No problem for me, I could scale the fucker in a few minutes bare handed, but the other two are who I worried about, I had a respect for Biker, ending the original 50 Blessings, and Jacket, was paramount to my meeting of Corey, so while I may hate the man, It's a false hate, something I can use to remove an ounce of guilt from myself.

I observe the cliff until I spot a hidden away rope ladder, closed off to stop the beasts from earlier presumably grabbing at people. Its claustrophobic, Jake couldn't fit in this enclosure even if the fat bastard wanted to. I note the presence of Biker and Jacket, and wave them over, as I begin climbing the ladder. By the time I'm about half way up, The rope ladder begins to shake more, seems Jacket and Biker are once again following me, Not that I can complain.

"We can't just ignore their presence, They appeared from nowhere and have just slaughtered a pack of Ursa, we can't ignore that, Ozpin" Complains the ever hot-headed blonde friend I keep around. I sit in silence and continue to observe...

"No need to fret Glynda, They are coming to us it seems."

I finally hobble above the ladder, take a few steps forward, and turn to see the view. I remove my mask to get a better view... It's difficult to see out of those things, but the way it changes your psyche is well worth the downsides. Jacket and Biker soon join me,removing their own head garments, Jacket, a slightly aged, demented man, with a short blonde tuft raising from his scalp, the other a long haired man, a headband banded around his forehead. We continue to observe the environment around us, until we hear footsteps, six sets to be exact. I slowly lower my mask back into place and prepare for combat, the others follow suit, Biker pulling a second cleaver out.

We are greeted by an older couple, and four younger women, some more... voluptuous than others, but they were around the same age at least. The older man of the couple signals for the others to stay, and walks towards us, a small smirk adorning his face. "Well gentlemen, it seems we find ourselves at a standstill, I suggest you come with us, we are peaceful as long as you are."

I think, then realize I'm not in that shithole Miami any more, and nobody else knows who we are. I lower my beaten and battered fists, Biker lowers his cleavers, and lowers Jackets hammer for him. I speak for the first time in a while, my voiced weakened, my larynx crackled and dried. "Well, let's move" My voice is audibly painful to use, and the four girls from earlier notice, one in particular lowering her weapon, understanding that I... no, we mean no harm. The old man turns and walks off, and we follow, eager for an explanation as to just where the fuck we are, and who the fuck he was.

The older man lead us through the front gates and courtyard of the complex, some bizarre architectural choices with bizarre angles and unhealthy shapes, to an elevator, and the nine of use crammed into the elevator, and rode to the top floor of that tower I spotted earlier. During the ride up, our masks remained on, however my other mask was hanging from my belt, a bloody hand print over the eye slit, which one noticed, the one in black and red, she reached for it, trying to be quiet about it, shame I was the silent killer of the group I used to be part of. I slap her hand away, she pretty much shits herself, and splutters back, her friend in yellow notices, and prepares for a fist fight, perhaps overprotective of her, maybe a sister or close friend, maybe lover? Who knows.

I mutter "Don't touch the mask, It's not yours, so please, for her..." I notice my mistake in wording at their confusion over the word "her" and I begin to panic slightly... I shake my head, The elevator doors open, and I clamber out. The younger girls stand to the right of a large wooden desk, The older woman on the left, and the older man sitting behind it. There are three chairs in front of the desk, myself, Jacket, and Biker sit, ready for a talk.

"So, care to explain how three under armored men such as yourselves ended up in the Emerald Forest of all places." The old man grumbles out with purpose.

"I just, appeared there, no idea how, never seen this place, or any place with a blue sky before, so I think I may be somewhere I ain't been before, the others are most likely the same." I muttered out with numbness enveloping my body, the adrenaline of combat circumventing from me. The other two nod, they are in the same situation as me.

The older man seems to mull over the thought, then mulls over the thought of a different colored sky, and, content with believing us, replies "Do you know who I am?"

"You are just an out of touch pedophile, old man" Biker stated with a voice that, while higher pitched than the average male, still held animosity and violence.

The older woman went to make a move, but was stopped by the older man stating "Don't bother Glynda" before looking back at us. "Alright then, I am Professor Ozpin, The Principal of Beacon, an academy for Hunters and Huntresses to fight the beasts you fought in the forest, and criminal riff-Raff... Now, who might you be, and I need a name."

I realize I have no need to hide my identity, and mutter out "I'm Tony, The one in the chicken mask is Jacket, and the other is Biker." Oz seemed content with the answer, and replied "Well, Tony, I have a proposition to all of you."

I find myself intrigued and lean in closer. Oz grins, and states "Since you are all so proficient in combat, would you like to join my academy, you seem like nomads as of now, and completing this course gets you respect from everywhere around here. There are teams, and I was planning on putting you three into a team, and since you lack the fourth member, provide you with a joint team member, you get to learn new fighting techniques, hunt the Grimm, etc. So, you in?"

I spend a minute thinking it over, and come to the conclusion that I need something to do to keep me out of that life I was in before this, second chance, and I can spend time with people I actually don't completely despise, It's an above average encounter. "I'm in." I mutter. Jacket and Biker nod in agreement.

"Very well, I will provide you with a room, make it your own, some communication devices, and maybe a bit of money on the side as a token of appreciation, now any questions from anybody in the room?" Oz questions.

The one in red puts her hand up, then questions me, with the rather painful gesture of "Who is 'her'?" She is referring to the encounter in the elevator, It pains me to say anything, I think it over, then I note I will spend time with these people, might as well be honest.

I remove my mask, my scarred face, little cuts and bruises, surrounded by various blood stains and burns, and mutter "She was... a companion of mine, she... didn't make it here..." A tear drops from my eye, but I quickly slap it away, and continue talking "Her name is on my arm, Corey... She cared for all of us, but everybody else is dead, slaughtered my a drugged up lunatic, I'm all that's left." I remove the mask from my belt, The others spotting it for the first time, and I stare into the bloodied eye slit, and begin to internally scream, and externally, cry some more. The girl in red takes a few hesitant strides towards me, the one in yellow makes a grab for her, but misses, and mumbles "Ruby, no." The now named Ruby stops in front of me, and stares at the mask, I can see the gears in her head turning, and eventually she whispers "It's okay." I reply "No, it's not". I then stand, and ask Ozpin "Which room am I looking for?" "Room 308" I grab one of the 'communication devices' Ozpin mentioned earlier, and get in the elevator, and prepare to head down, Jacket and Biker follow.

I stumble to room 308, and wave the device at the door, which opened the door, turns out doing stuff in jest can open doors around here. I kick the door open, and see a room with grey walls, and two bunk beds, I fall onto one, and pass out, with my mask still on, In case anyone feels lucky enough to attack me at night.

 **To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Making the moves

As I awoke from the bizarrely silk laden bed, I peer to my left and see the other two, Biker and Jacket, sleeping in the bunk bed across from me. Jacket was in a small heap, curled into the bed sheets creating a rose-like pattern in the bed sheets, the mask now tossed haphazardly onto the carpeted flooring and now in a red and white heap, a small blond fop slopping from a gap in the rose-patterned cave he called a bed. He didn't seem to be sleeping peacefully, a slightly jagged twitch, a slight sniffling heavily pronounced by his nostrils.

Meanwhile Biker, upon the top bunk, was splayed upon the sheets, a number of his limbs drooping off of the bed with a slight sway. His helmet, bizarrely, was still atop his head, I had seen the ever reserved Jacket's face more times than the blue-haired oddball.

I note the dimmed, orange light slitted by some lowered blinds at the window, but still peeking through, providing a semblance of visibility. I slowly untangled myself from the sheets I had somehow gotten stuck in, and stood, staring towards the door, I stared down at my torso, ensuring I actually had some clothing, Grabbed and donned my mask, then grasped the door handle. Stumbling out of the door, turning and swinging it shut, and staring at the nearby signs pointing in various locations of the educational complex. Down one path was a training room. I found myself rather curious, and decided I was going to fuck around in there for a few hours. However before I could pull said action off, the door across from mine swings open, and a small ginger girl comes barrelling from the room, with a rather lanky green dressed man stumbling out alongside her. The girl, a rather... aggravating grin stemming from her face, becomes a look of confusion, perhaps some contemplation, and pure bewilderment. She then lets out a collection of words which I loosely translated into "OH MY GOD REN REN REN REN THERES A LION MAN AAAAAAAAAAAH"

The presumably tired Ren, slowly raised his head, and then, perhaps not expecting a blood stained tiger mask to greet him. He hops back a step, then replies to the ginger girl "That's not a lion Nora, that's a tiger." She replied with...

"OOOH"

Such pure amazement in her eyes was, admittedly, worth a chuckle to me, an action which slightly disturbed Ren, who shivered slightly, and made Nora even more amazed. "IT CAN SPEAK! WHO ARE YOU TIGERMAN?" She questioned rather loudly. I thought for a few seconds, and decided that gaining a few new friends is better than remaining in this melancholic seclusion I find myself in after... Corey.

I slowly raise my mask, temporarily blinding myself, just enough to show a scarred chin and mouth, completely devoid of moisture in almost all regards, heavy slashes encased into the reddened skin. The two cease to converse, seemingly interested by the slight removal of my mask. I slowly open my dried mouth and answer their questions with "I'm human." I lower the mask once more, and can now see again, I am greeted not with two faces, one of surprise and the other of slight concern over the scars. I am instead greeted with two pearlescent turquoise, and rather enticing eyes. The body that owned said eyes then lurched back slightly at the quick movement, with a wide grin. She then lets out the extremely loud "SCARS ARE COOL."

I decide that I have better places to be.

I turn to my right and walk down a random corridor, hopefully to either those woods from my previous excursions, or a training room. Nora attempts to follow, as I hear her get closer and closer, the sound of extremely heavy footsteps getting closer and closer, until somebody grabs her and raises her from the ground, and seemingly bolts off, disappearing down a different corridor. I continue forward and find myself in a large, empty training room, with no shortage of equipment, stuff for cardio, strength, and... literally anything else you could want... sadly I have no such use for that equipment, some bandaging, which I always have on me, and a wall is enough for me to train myself.

Sound echoed throughout the halls, under the doors, and bled through walls.

A few hours had passed, the sunlight had went from a dim orange to a near-blinding white, I have spent my life in the melancholic land of Miami, where the sky was always either orange, yellow, or a hazy purple, so such a blinding light is a slight shock to me. My fists were wrapped in the black bandages I carried, and lathered in a thick layer of crimson, some dried and crusty, and the rest moist, and dripping from my fists. I look around, finding a rather oversized clock on the wall, the time was 1:32pm. I hear a gasp at the turning of my head, and turn around fully, spotting both the girls from yesterday, along with Nora and Ren, Each looking more shocked than the last, with the exception of Nora, of course she was instead staring, wide-eyed at the sight of my bloodied hands. Biker and Jacket were also in the room, but not at the doorway, they were actually a few metres away, doing their own training, Biker throwing his cleavers like darts into a wall, while Jacket just sat and watched. Ruby, the one in red, lurched forward slightly, prepared to talk to me, but had both of her arms grabbed, one by yellow, and the other by white. Red did not complain, just glared slightly at the two.

Nora was the one to confront me instead, Ren staying back. She ran forward, grabbed my shirt, and lightly shook me, while stating "That isn't how you train silly, you use a punching bag, not the wall, look how much you hurt his feelings." Nora then did something weird, she hugged the fucking wall. I merely grunted at the sight, whistled at Biker and Jacket, and left, back to my dorm. Biker and Jacket followed, although I don't know about the others compatriots I had previously encountered.

I find myself back in my room, with Biker and Jacket not returning, I spotted them walk by the room as I left, wonder where those two are off to now. I decide that I probably need a shower, and probably some clothes, since Ozpin gave me money for that, and I can't walk around with one set of clothes. I remove my shirt, preparing for a shower, for the first time in... no idea how long. However that plan is revoked when I open the door of the bathroom in the dorm room, which I only just realized was a thing, and find myself greeted with the same Turquoise eyes from earlier that day.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: bizarre

Meeting with some turquoise globes during an excursion to a shower whilst topless was probably the not the best idea I had ever come up with, especially since I never planned for this conundrum to occur. These eyes belonged to Nora, of fuckin course it's the crazy one, who, at the time, was bent slightly forward, peering at an angle up towards my chin, she appeared to be slightly confused at my action, with her head tilted to the side, this is something I would usually consider a cute gesture, but you'll find it becomes slightly difficult to notice cute things when the last cute thing you had died as you helplessly watched.

I stumbled backwards slightly at the presence of the ginger nutcase, before providing her a steeled glaze, one which, she managed to shrug off, unaware of the icy tension circumventing throughout the room. It was at this point Nora decided to speak.

"Who are you?"

Strange, I could've sworn I had introduced myself earlier, and yet here she stands, claiming complete obliviousness of my character. I decide to merely reply with "I'm the tiger man, remember?"

The sound of a rather overbearingly loud "OOOOH" echoed throughout the halls, grabbing the attention of a certain green bean wandering the halls searching for a certain orange clump.

"So you are the one punching walls, what did the walls do to you to make you hate them so much?" This is by far the weirdest conversation I had ever had up to this point in my boring, albeit short life. I decide to reply with "I don't hate the walls, they provide a substitute for a face." She takes a step back, mulling over the thought, before accepting it. However during that step back I managed to notice something, finally, as she stepped back...

She was completely in the nude.

How I hadn't yet noticed this, I'm not sure, I'm usually quite perceptive, perhaps her eyes distracted me, or perhaps the fact a girl had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in my bathroom had temporarily given me a severe case of tunnel vision. I feel the blood within me rapidly torpedo towards my face, as I find myself getting as close to her as physically possible, grabbing her shoulders, and, with a deep, and melancholic sigh, ask "Why are you naked in my bathroom?"

Nora is startled by my sudden closeness, and twitches in my grasp, the blood from my pulsating hands slowly seeping down her torso, before her confusion sets in, then the reckless abandon of her not giving a shit, as she states, "oops, wrong dorm." and grabs a towel, covering herself and swaggering out of the dorm, and across the hall to her actual dorm.

I sigh, going to the dorms door, ensuring it's locked at least 12 times over, and stumbling to the bathroom, and closing the door, with blood staining the doorknob.

I'm still in the shower, with the freezing cold water sweeping over me, blood pouring into the drain, swirling into a blackened abyss, the freezing water coursing over the countless scars from the miasma of brawls, training, etc. I use this time for contemplation, first off, how did I get here? I mean, I am very pleased with the second chance I have been given, but, why the fuck was it me to be dragged from Miami and into this place, why not Corey, why not any of the others? Why was I the one left all alone, once again, just like the earlier times in my life, when I was abandoned by my parents, my family, left to rot in the bog that was the streets of Miami in the 80's, Left to fend for myself, fighting for money in a brothel house, run by Russian mobsters, whom I would later brutalize in an orderly fashion for their crimes against both humanity, and my own chaste, as the Russian fucks sold my virginity off to a completely revolting cougar, who wanted a young fuck without having to kidnap or grab her son yet again, yes she was incestuous with her own flesh and blood. Those pigs, and that woman, met their end at the hands of both me, and a younger, more violent Corey.

I realize I had been sitting in the shower for multiple hours, and should probably vacate the area before I become a human raisin. I quickly stand, turning off the water, and stumbled out, sticking the old, bloodied clothes I have been wearing for the last few days, and unlock the dorms door once more, taking off for the roof of the building for some privacy. I stumble up each and every step, and kick the slightly ajar door open, to find not only a lack of that peace and quiet I had hoped to find, I instead found the entirety of team RWBY alongside Nora and Ren. The concerned glares sent my way suggest an intervention was afoot.

 **To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: An explanation

The questioning glares of a collective of eight, concern seeping from every pore upon them, as I slowly, and with my confidence rapidly wavering, took a few steps forward unto the group, prepared for the worst.

"Why were you punching a wall, for... I don't even know how long, what matters is why?"

This question, bizarrely, came from Black, she seems sympathetic, perhaps she too knows great pain, beyond anything any human being, or... whatever I am, should experience, I may be a monster, but pain, only riles the wretched from it's binds. I reply with a mere "It's how I train, I need to be fast, strong, agile, why do you think I was given the mask of the adrenaline fuelled tiger after all?"

"Training shouldn't cause that much pai-" Ruby attempted to state something pathetic, about training, how it shouldn't cause pain or some other petty bullshit excuse...

The nerve of this girl...

"You have no idea what true training is, little one, when you are left, with the only feelings remaining within you, being an unbridled rage like nothing you have ever experienced before... When you have lost everything you have ever wanted, watched it torn from your grasp and flung to a bonfire to return to nothing before your own eyes... that is true pain, no physical ailment can come close to even a thousandth of a thousandth of the pain I have been put through over, and over, and over a-fucking-gain."

Draining yourself of your burdens, can be a short term relief, the pressure temporarily removed from your scarred psyche, but such periods of relief are vastly outweighed by the consequences, as you have both, the people you told, and the eventual, but inevitable return of that pressure once more, to deal with.

"What... what happened to you?" A question that came from a mouth I didn't care enough to identify, maybe if I leak out some info, the pressure will permanently lighten, not necessarily gone, but less overbearing.

"Miami, happened. I was part of a group, our homes were filled by sleazy, dirty pigs, with weapons the civvies like I had no access to, so me and a few friends collected ourselves, donned our masks, and took them on... one by one we slaughtered them all, until we got to the final stage. The boss' headquarters. Considering their absence, you can guess their fate. I didn't even manage to get my mitts onto that filth, until I found his corpse... pussy took his own life, after taking the lives of so many others. I was the last of us, and I had to watch... as she slowly bled out, in my arms... now I am left alone once again, left to be tormented by everything, life is a constant reminder of my failures to protect what I cared about, and the slight feeling I get when I beat the fuck out of a wall, is, while not a good feeling, the only thing, I can still feel."

Finishing the tangent sparse of breathe, I stumble to the roof's edge, sucking in slightly more air than I preferred to take in, before looking back at the groups expressions.

The looks I received were both typical and startling.

First, the typical, looks of sympathy from ginger and blonde boy, Blonde girl, and the long haired guy.

Then there was the confusing ones.

Black was showing no expression, merely thinking, of what, I have no idea.

White showed disdain over the mention of the slaughter escapades of my past.

Ruby was looking at me, with appeared to be a glazed over look, she seemed much more sympathetic than the rest on the inside, she seemed to have familiar pains of losing those you loved, unfortunately, sympathetic contains "pathetic" within it, which I most certainly don't aim to be.

Nora was by far the most disturbing, covered in tears, sobbing and sniffling on her knees.

Who reacts to a sob story like that?

Nora proceeded to, With previously unknown speed, dart towards me, and wrap her arms around my neck, jamming her head violently into the crook of my neck, knocking my mask off my face in the process.

The scars that marred my face, from years of bar fights, alley fights, pit fights, pretty much anything else with the word "fight" in it, was something not everyone got to see, not because I was afraid of showing them, I frankly don't give a flying fuck about my physical appearance, only my ability to protect what I love, But because the mask rarely, if ever, came off.

Team RWBY already knew of my facial markings, however the other people present either had never seen my face, or had not seen the full extent. This became obvious via their reactions.

Blonde boy looked intimidated, that my stories were true, and not merely lies for attention.

Ginger looked absolutely mortified, no idea why.

Long haired guy, who I expected little reaction from, maybe a slight drop of the jaw, or widening of the eyes. Instead, I got pure fear, why, well that was due to a certain scar. One particular scar drew over both of my eyes, some guy during a pub crawl felt lucky, an went at me with a switch blade, it ended badly for him, he wound up dead, I received a permanent scar, it sliced a small part of my retina, it looked like I couldn't see. Note, that I still could see perfectly, just looked blind.

Nora noticed the mask drop, and looked up at me... her sobbing got heavier.

She pushed her torso into mine, mumbling into my neck "You aren't alone anymore."

I will always be alone Nora, don't try and fool me otherwise.

I freed myself from her grasp, grabbed my mask, and stomped my way down the stairs, into my dorm, and onto my bed, once again, in the same clothes...

I need to go shopping tomorrow.

 **To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The rather Derelict experiences of a depressed bloke

Rather annoyingly, Tony found himself awaken to the deep maroon hue gleaming through the blinds of the dorm room, the exact same as yesterday, and most likely tomorrow. Tony could tell that his clothes were getting rather putrid, and he was used to wearing a skintight vest covered in several days worth of blood, vodka, and vomit. Groggily he rose from the bed, the mattress given a concave indent due to his presence.

Grabbing the scroll he needed to open his door, alongside access to the bank account which Tony was gonna use for his new gear, before stumbling to the door, shoving it open with a short heave of his left shoulder, and walking down the corridor to his left, leading to the entrance of the school grounds, before entering what appeared to be some kinda passenger transport for air, however instead of the bucket with engines he was used to, he got a blimp...

At least the ride would be smoother.

* * *

Arriving in the centre of a bustling city and not beginning to crack several skulls open at once was a bizarre contradiction to the state he usually found himself in, instead walking down a pavement, hoping to find a clothing store of some sort, which he eventually did.

Claires Wares.

What a name for a clothing store.

Entering the building, he discovered an endless array of velvet red, plastered to every wall, floor, and ceiling, the only exceptions being the clothes themselves.

* * *

After a few minutes, a figure emerged from the building, who would be practically unrecognisable if not for the typical mask constantly adorning his features. Tony had emerged with a typical pair of jeans and his typical "wife beater" white vest, however a black sleeveless hoodie, purple cowl, and single strapped backpack **(Think Cole MacGrath's bag)** had been added, seemingly to increase concealment, since he could cover the mask, and storage capacities. With a flick of his flayed wrist, the hood was raised, his identity discretely wiped from his person. Tony would continue to meander the streets of Vale, a tad too clean and devoid of alcohol and blood for his liking, looking for some fun, only to discover none, get bored, and return to the school, to continue training.

* * *

Finding himself back at the rather annoyingly large complex of education, Tony once again wandered to the training rooms, to further damage his fists.

Finally entering his makeshift safe haven, he discovered the presence of Biker, who was yet again training in his throwing, but no Jacket.

A silent, subtle nod was all that was required for Biker to understand the situation, he gave up his practice, and went to stand watch at the doorway of the gym, to remove the possibility of interference.

Not a word had been spoken between us, and yet a bond was beginning to develop, more than I expected, I mean, Jacket is incapable of speech, but Biker and I can speak perfectly fine, I guess that shows certain people don't need a voice.

Nora seems to absolutely beg to differ.

…

It's been two hours, two labouring hours of smashing my fists into the wall once more, now the wall was becoming dented, and my mark had been left on this pillar of humanity, despite my lack of it.

I am, after all, a husk, not of my former self, no... I've always been a husk, an empty shell, devoid of life like a black hole, slowly sucking life from its surroundings, since the day I was born unto this earth into child slavery, I have always been, this... empty thing. A vessel of anger.

And it will not be fixed.

Ever.

Who would anyway?

Maybe Nora would...

No...

It's a facade Tony, don't fall for it, only Corey cared, she was different, she is not.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Why am I here?

Saturday had arrived, or had it? He couldn't remember, who would, after experiencing a drastic life change such as this laughing-stock, it seems God, or whoever the fuck else was out there, just loved fuckin' with Tony... and if there's one thing you don't do, it's fuck with Tony, else he swing a grisly fist into your faceplate and perhaps swing a couple of pickaxes into some annoyingly hollow craniums, or perhaps he'd get real freaky-deeky and wring your tear ducts into a condom and use it as a motherfuckin' teabag, after all, this is Tony we are talking about here, who else would perform such heinous acts against people, regardless of the shit they did... that sorta punishments was reserved for the true grime he came across, child-slavers, serial rapists, or that fuckin' bitch who just wouldn't get off his prepubescent cock for a god damn second. Perhaps this shithole will be unsuitable for Tony, for the sake of both himself, and the cunts he was squashing like grapes under his hydraulic-press for a heel.

The last few days were a blur, to Tony at least, nothing but punching walls, bleeding in showers, and, of course, wallowing in self-pity. There was simply no chance for any semblance of an amalgamation that you could call life... this wasn't life, this was hell. A swirling drain, with the pipe below a pipeline consisting entirely of hell-fire & brimstone, and maybe a few trillion seductress lashing whips of metallic wire barbed with the teeth of the people he has wronged, although none of this was new for Tony, there was one difference... these bizarre, scantily-clad succubi all had a familiar face, one Tony would just love to forget...

Corey.

Why?

That, Tony could not answer, only mull over for an undetermined, and extremely monotonous amount of time.

Tony managed to break himself from the chain of thought plaguing him, and came to a rather icy realisation. He was still in the shower... how long had it been? Looking up at the analogue clock loosely pinned to the tiled bathroom wall, a feat Tony didn't want to ask the method of attainment for,only to feel his heart shudder slightly, his heartstrings tugging away.

It was 4am.

How had Tony been in the shower for 8 fuckin' hours?

But more importantly, why had no-one complained yet?

I'm sure Biker or Jacket would have made some commotion by this point, or maybe someone in the adjacent rooms? Surely somebody had shown up to check, or something like that?

This sort of neglect from everyone around him was frankly hitting way too close to home for him, since the only one who gave a single shit is now gone. Glancing down at his left arm, he once again glared at the ink stained into his annihilated ghostly skin, the words "Corey" written in a sickeningly sweet cursive with a single line of barbed wire curling around it, and a small gold club resting against the C of the word... God, did she love that golf club.

Smacking himself in the face, he regained his now tearing composure, and left the shower looking like a raisin that had been toasted and incubated for multiple years, which only seemed to further annunciate his scarred, battered, borderline deformed body, his torso in particular. Wrapping a towel around a waist marred with stretch marks & heavily puckered skin that he so reluctantly called his, and staggered out of the bathroom in an almost intoxicated stupor, maybe it was the incense of the painfully generic shampoo & body wash graciously provided by the school he slightly wished he wasn't a part of, maybe it was the scent of his own cascading psyche consisting almost entirely of self-hatred, or maybe Ozpin was pumping laughing gas into his room like he was a Jew out for a camping trip, who knows at this point? And more importantly, who gives a fuck? Not Tony, that's for sure.

Tony's eyes scanned the room for movement, and found none, his teammates ceased to exist here, along with any other presence. Looking to the glass door to the balcony of the dorm room, he discovered a slowly rising sun, a sight both foreign and alien to him, this sun had a hue of gold, while his was caked in mud, giving a metallic purple tint instead, a perfect reminder that Tony shouldn't be here, and likely isn't welcome either, with all the crimes against humanity he has commit, who in their right mind would grant him asylum, especially around the innocent, who likely didn't need to see that shambling mess of a man Tony saw in the mirror every damn day.

Deciding that he likely wasn't going to get sleep, he quickly got dressed into his outfit he picked up a few days ago, and decided a walk around the sullen, dismal hallways would be his best bet for getting his shit together in his head, or at least, taping a few of the bits together with some PVA glue and dried tears.

Storming his way down the corridors, he left no traces behind, beside the echoes of his footsteps down the corridor.

Or at least that's what he would have done, however a certain ginger had decided that today, of all days, she would get up early for a pancake raid, without her plus one.

A true bizarrerie of life, then again, when was life not some kind of incorporeal jokester manipulator, always loved to take the piss out of the poor saps who actually fall for such fantasies as love and happiness and afterlife, because why would a lone-shark give you something good without taking it from you? Sure, maybe you'll get an afterlife, but you'll either have everything stripped from you on the journey there, or you show up at the pearly gates, only to find hells hounds behind the gate, eager to taste your supple, innocent flesh.

Tony had meandered into a large room, the walls soundproofed with thick, shadowed black foam tiles coating the rooms walls like a madhouse cell, several booths rested at his end of the room, large enough for one person, no more and no less, on the other end of the room lay several targets.

A shooting range, it appears...

Great, yet another grim reminder of his many, many shortcomings.

How, I hear you asking from beyond this virtual, stereotypical fictitious miasma of barely functioning word-choice and imagery that not even Gehennas boy-toys would want to lower their already crushed gazes towards, sitting there, scratching at your overgrown neck-beard, various plates scattered over your desk, a mound of crushed cans of Monster and Relentless that probably should have killed your lardy ass by now, and a bed that has a flurry of stains that i'm not going to question, if only for my own mental condition, How was this a reminder of Tony's shortcomings, you ask?

Well, it's simple.

Due to Tony's lifestyle, which consisted of getting in drunken brawls, getting raped by various women who probably should have retired from such illustrious professions decades ago, and punching almost everything in sight that wasn't one of his crew...

...or at least, that's what it used to be like, now he wasn't so sure of who he should break...

...either way, because of him using his fists at almost every occasion he could use them, and jumping at the chance to use them when available, it resulted in Tony having a bit of an issue, one Corey used to help him with, but obviously couldn't now in her... absence...

Tony couldn't use a gun.

He could curl his fingers into a fist, or fasten his adamantium grip onto something, his actual motor function, to twitch his fingers in order to pull the trigger, that he could never do.

And it's likely why Tony considers himself such a fuck-up, he believes that if he wasn't such an self-centred imbecile, perhaps Corey, Ash, Alex, & Mark. Okay, so maybe saving Ash & Alex was a long-shot, however it definitely would have raised the chances of survival for Mark & Corey...

...Fuck me, he really was a mess, wasn't he?

Walking over to a nearby table, on his furthest left, he grabbed a small pistol, some kind of 9mm, might as well give it a go, get more angry at himself for being such a fucked up little brittle spittle on the surface of the earth, who continues to desperately attempt to break the gate and yet just can't shake the hate from himself.

The firearm felt extremely alien to him, his hands weren't used to holding something made of bits of hardened plastic, he was more used to the cold steel of a lead-pipe or an axe, or at least he was before he discovered the absolute undiluted glory that was unarmed combat. Tony didn't do range, and this thing was practically useless without range.

Stumbling over to the shooting range, and taking the most isolated booth he could, the one in the corner of the room caked in an abyssal shadow. He raised the gun towards the target, 10 metres out from his guess. It took Tony a few languid seconds to get his shaking, skeletal index finger around the trigger...

..Breathe in...

He points the barrel of the gun towards the outline.

He attempts to exert pressure on the trigger.

The gun begins to shake and chatter, before a bang erupts and a clatter.

...Breathe out...

Tony had tried to fire, and his hand simply overexerted pressure onto the handle.

The gun had managed to let out a round, before the whole structure collapsed, although it had strewn into a nearby wall, missing the target by an extreme margin. The pistol was now in several plasticated chunks, golden shells had fallen to the drab concrete floor.

The sound of a certain loud mouthed ginger broke him from his self-hating stupor.

"That's not how you fire a gun, silly!"

"Oh, not now..."

Tony turns to look at the source of the noise, only to see a pale peachy colour...

...what the fuck...

...oh, it's just Nora's skin...

...wait just a fuckin' minute here...

"NORA!" Tony screamed.

"Oops, sorry, I just cant... seem... to... FIT!" Nora replied as loud as usual, she seems to have attempted to stuff herself into the booth alongside Tony, but had managed to get herself stuck at her hips, presumably, all Tony had to do was look down to make sure. Tony looked down...

...only to get a faceful of cleavage.

"MMPH" Tony groaned into the mounds that were now blocking his entire face, as Nora appears to have managed to squeeze threw the booth...

...wait...

...his mask, where was his mask?

He forgot it.

He forgot his fuckin' mask? How?

Regardless, it was the least of his worries at this point.

Tony yanked his head back upwards...

Only to somehow manage to smash his scarred lips into here plump ones.

While it should have been pleasant for Tony, there were far too many painful memoirs, which quickly dashed any semblance of pleasure or happiness from the encounter.

Tony attempted to pull his head back, only to find a surprisingly boisterous grip holding him in place, one hand tugging at the shoulder of his sleeveless hoodie he had 'acquired' yesterday, and the other wrapped directly over his sullen head...

What the fuck is going on here? Was Nora holding him in place? Was she actually enjoying this? How could she enjoy this?

Tony was beginning to run out of air, however there was no signs of Nora needing to stop.

Tony's mouth opened slightly in attempt to gasp for air, perhaps he could move his head enough to get some air in. Or at least that was the plan, until Nora got a bit weird... again.

Specifically, with the use of her tongue.

She had jabbed it into his mouth, and made an attempt to lurch her tongue around his facial crevasse. Not even Corey had gotten that far with him. Tony sat there, stagnant in shock for a few seconds, allowing Nora her fill, if only accidentally, however after those seconds past, Tony bit down on the top of her tongue.

She lurched back a few feet, letting out a quick meep.

Tony sucked in a large breath of air, and the proceeded to scream "What the fuck are you doing, woman?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but it was you who was getting all up in these." She drawled, proceeding to point directly at her cleavage, drawing out the last 'e' a bit too much for his comfort.

"That wasn't my fault, you tried to squeeze into this tiny booth with me!"

"I just wanted to help you shoot!"

"Well you can't, you doughball!"

Nora seems slightly annoyed at my resistance.

"Look, just let me try to help you." Nora requested.

"...Fine, but just one shot, I don't got many tries at this without getting the staff mad."

Tony grabbed another pistol, or rather a magnum of sorts, after all, go big or go home.

Tony readied himself, raising the barrel to the target, while Nora stood behind him.

She slowly, almost sensually snaked her arms down his, until she reached his shaking hands. Slowly, Tony once more attempted to fire the gun, putting pressure on the trigger, or at least attempting to, once again the gun chattered under the pressure of Tony's fists. Thankfully, Nora somehow managed to help him.

Nora moved her hands under Tony's hands, and slowly pushed back at his grip, allowing only the trigger to be pulled down.

BANG

The magnum had fired, and had managed to hit the target, dead on the head.

Tony was overjoyed, why, he didn't know, all he knew was that he was happy.

This seemed to shock Nora, whose eyes brightened with the power of an imploding neutron star, she slowly bumbled back, dragging Tony with her, causing him to drop the magnum, and rotate to face Nora once again. Nora greeted him with a tight embrace...

Tony hated to admit it, but he could get used to this, even if it would end in tragedy again.

"See, you can do it, you just need to loosen that vice grip of yours!" Nora exclaimed, still slightly too loudly, despite it being a mere whisper in comparison to her usual antics, or at least what Tony had experienced of them.

Tony felt a rush, unlike any other adrenaline surge before, he had felt something similar before, only once, when he... well, I think the term 'removed' works... removed his owner from her current life, and moved her into what he hoped to be a horrible next one. A sorrowful wave of nostalgia smacked Tony back to life from his stupor like a blade to the larynx, he turned around to face Nora, her face adorning a small, barely concealed smirk of satisfaction. Tony had to thank her for this, sure he was an absolute waste of space, but he knew that sometimes... sometimes thanks were needed, even Tony knew that. Although Tony probably wasn't quite prepared for what he did, even if he himself was the one to perform the action. To put it simply...

Tony wrapped Nora in an embrace, not tight enough to squeeze the air out of her, but enough to show he meant it.

 **To Be Continued...**


End file.
